My True Love Gave To Me
by the.clairvoyance
Summary: Our favourite couple join in on the festivities this Christmas :D.
1. Chapter 1

**My True Love Gave To Me**

**Disclaimer:** Don't you wish I owned the show? Well actually if I were you I'd be wishing for myself, not some other CSI: NY fan who would probably hold the actors captive until they succumbed to their demands. Not that _that_ thought has gone through any of our head's ;).

**Pairing:** Mac/Stella, SMacked.

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Our favourite couple join in on the festivities this Christmas :D.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so I totally was not planning on writing another fic before Christmas because I wanted to get started (and complete!) on the second chapter of "_Waiting on Angel_" but I got side tracked by the plot bunny that came hopping into my mind the other night :P. So here I am with yet another fiction I will most certainly not have completely posted by Christmas Day. Oh well, its been fun xD. Hope you like it! :D

* * *

**Chapter I.**

"You know that Christmas time is the time of the year with the highest suicide rate?" Sid recited solemnly without looking up from the stiff, detached body of the young woman lying across the autopsy table; her eyes wide open and skin disgustingly pallor.

"So I guess all that Christmas spirit about hope, faith, and love is kinda lost on you then, huh Sid?" Stella, the curly haired detective, asked with her voice only a notch less confidant than it had been when she stepped off the elevator into the morgue.

He gasped in faux surprise and, lifting his head from the t-cut that ran down the deceased's chest and abdomen, he chastised the detective teasingly. "Why Stella, you know me not to be a Scrooge. In fact I'm positively overflowing with excitement at the prospect of Christmas Eve and day, and of course the rest of the week off I have to spend with my girls."

With that rebuttal Stella could not disagree for as long as she had ever known Sid she had believed him to be the prime example of Christmas joy and excitement, like a child wound up from sugar cookies and the anticipation meeting Santa Claus for the very first time. In fact she, as well as much of the New York crime lab, knew that Sid bought his Christmas tree November 30th and had all of his Christmas shopping done by the middle of the second week of December. He handed out candy canes and homemade gingerbread cookies to employees and colleagues alike, hummed Christmas carols in the elevator, and once made a habit of strategically placing mistletoe above open doorways and elevators. Stella chuckled softly at the memory but apparently loud enough to garner her friend's attention.

"Something funny, my dear Ms. Bonasera?" Sid questioned, his eyes pointed towards her while his hands steadily made yet another incision in the young lady's body.

"Nothing." Stella replied quickly, as if she was a schoolgirl once more and caught doing something that she had rather not been caught doing. "So what do we have, Doc?"

Sid noticed but did not comment on the swift change of topic and resumed is brief inspection of the deceased. He didn't want to look up but he couldn't keep looking down at the contents of the young woman's body. Sighing, he brought his face up to the woman across the table and with a frown etched on his aging face, and said the words he had too much familiarity with.

"She was murdered alright, but something is telling me she wanted it."

This, just as the doctor has assumed, had the CSI frowning.

"Now don't get wrong Sid, coz' you know I love you, but no one _really_ wants to be in this morgue."

He swallowed and looked down at the contents once more. Too many tests ago Sid had been taught the signs of drug and substance abuse, had seen the outcome of Clorox consumed, of not struggling at all when a pillow was pressed just a little too hard to the mouth and nose. The thing was that no matter how many autopsies he preformed it never got any easier for him to say the results aloud.

"She was suicidal, Stella." The words felt like bricks, falling between the two professional and on to the victim, compressing what little life she had left, what little that Sid and Stella liked to believe the victims had left. "And from what I can tell these were some pretty new damage. You can see from around her mouth where she was smothered, and the fact she's swallowed a lethal volume of bleach product, and that there are no defensive wounds anywhere, there aren't even bruises on the wrists to present forceful action. This girl wanted to die and I wouldn't be surprised at all if she knew her attacker."

It was moments like these that Sid understood why Stella disliked the morgue so much, why she feels uncomfortable or "creeped out" or grossed out when she comes face to face with the reaction to a life or death action. So mustering up his courage, Sid dragged his attention from the girl—who really could not be any more than nineteen years old—and instead to the woman with fierceness in her eyes that startled the elder of the two.

"Sid, and you can take my word for this one, _no one_ wants suicide to be the answer."

Nodding in agreement, Sid broke apart his glasses and tucked them away. He wouldn't press the conversation any longer than necessary nor would he offer any form of comfort regarding the case, he knew Stella and how she worked and that it would be best to not further the difficult feelings by vocalizing them now.

"Well in the spirit of togetherness and embracing life," Sid began, gaining Stella's otherwise waning interest. "We're all still on for Christmas, correct?"

And contradicting her previous attitude this question had Stella grinning ear-to-ear.

"But of course, is there any better use of time than massacring turkey and shredding wrapping paper over eggnog shots and red wine?" Stella retorted rhetorically, eliciting a smirk from her friend.

"One o'clock?" He asked despite the fact he already knew the answer.

"One o'clock." She assured him despite the fact it was needless.

And with that the Greek detective snatched the autopsy report from the side table and headed towards the elevator doors, hairs flouncing around her shoulders and smile stretched over her pretty face. She, just as always, would be sure to arrive at 12:40 _sharp_.

* * *

A Tiffany's Elsa Peretti black leather backpack cost a sum total of four hundred seventy five dollars at regular price, now considering that Mac was no shopaholic and didn't even like grocery shopping all that much, it came as a great surprise to himself when he had managed to snag the backpack for a mere four hundred dollars with no tax while on some kind of discount.

He had smiled to the young lady working the cash with her dangling Christmas ornament earrings and Christmas tree pendant falling down the v-neck of her red knit sweater. The young redhead looked as if she belonged in an ABC holiday special or a small town church choir rather than among the likes of mid-town New York and the little blue boxes his partner had professed to loving so much. She smiled at the detective and the black bag in his hand and the whole store lit up like the Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Centre.

"Good afternoon, sir, did you have any trouble finding anything today?" The cashier asked as she accepted the bag being passed over the counter to her, her eyes the colour of the ice covering the sidewalks outside.

"No, no trouble at all." Mac replied with a smile, quickly checking the time on his watch as the young woman rung the price up for the expensive gift.

"This is a pretty pricey gift, y'know, I sure hope whoever you're getting this for appreciates it." She smiled warmly as she felt the leather against the pads of her fingers, the nails of which were painted in a pattern of red and green for the holidays.

"Well I'm sure she will love it. She loves everything about this store." Mac chuckled to himself as the price was totalled and he swiped his credit card while the cashier with a nametag that read _Melinda_ grabbed a plain white box off the shelf behind and her.

"Expensive taste, eh? Wish I could get a gift with such a fancy price tag, but then I guess it's the thought that counts, huh? Red, green, or blue tissue paper?" She asked the CSI who regarded the brightly coloured tissue only briefly.

"Uhm, blue I guess." No that it really mattered since Stella was just going to tear the thing apart like a child a child on Christmas morning anyway, especially when she knew him to be a softy when it came to her and wanting to please her. Apparently the fact that he would buy her just about anything put thoughts of Tiffany's in her head and Mac was not willing to disappoint her.

Once the knapsack was wrapped up neatly in the light blue tissue paper and placed inside of the white box and then inside of a larger bag, Melinda smiled and wished Mac very happy holidays and good luck with the gift, he exchanged the gesture and headed back out into the cold December weather.

Mac was absolutely sure Stella would approve of her gift this year, not that she had ever disapproved in the past, but this one he was certain she would love. In the years before Mac had made it a habit to buy her one expensive gift and one less expensive gift, it usually was some kind of purchase from Tiffany's and Co. and bottle of wine or box of chocolates or something along those lines.

He recalled how in the previous year, Stella had opened a slender white box to reveal a Sterling silver bead bracelet that she had all but fallen head over heels for. The memory of her squealing in delight as she opened the box, as she tried on the piece of jewellery, as she hugged him tightly in thanks burned in his mind and brought a smile to the CSI's face. He just hoped this year she'd be just as impressed with his shopping abilities but then Stella had a way of surprising him and with that he headed back to the black Avalanche he had drove on the way to pick up her gift and headed back in the direction of the New York Crime Lab.

* * *

"Okay, okay, I'm leavin' now." Danny spoke hurriedly into his cell phone, the voice of a hysterical woman faint in the background. Turning the cellular device off, Danny turned on a heel and all but ran his boss over as he moved towards the doorway.

They clashed instantly and after a moment of shock and recovery, Mac tossed Danny an expression that was all too familiar to the younger man. A look of humour and questioning was evident on Mac, what with his thin lips and narrowed eyes; it was enough to make a weaker man cower. Thank God that Danny was much more terrified of his wife than his boss.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that Mac, didn't see you there." He began, mouth rambling but body itching to get out of the lab and to his apartment where his wife and daughter were awaiting his return. "I've just gotta run coz' Linds' parents flight is gonna be landin' soon and y'know how Linds hates drivin' in the city and in the winter so guess whose playin' chauffer?"

At this Mac cracked a small smile and clapped his hand over the younger man's shoulder.

"Get of here, you don't want leave Lindsay alone preparing for the arrival of your in laws, now do you?"

Relieved, Danny raced past his boss with a look of determination in his eyes before calling back over his shoulder a shout of thanks before sliding through a puddle of water and into the opening elevator doors. Mac laughed humouredly at the man's good fortune.

Continuing down the hallway Mac made his way towards his office, his mind set on the fact he had a mountain of paperwork to be completed in the next two days before Christmas Day. God Mac really hated paperwork but he knew it had to be done and although the temptation to ditch the impending torturous hours of filling out files and bombard the higher ups with snowballs—hey, he was all for the season of winter—crossed his mind he knew that probably would not be the wisest course of action since he wanted to keep both his job and his vacation days although with the amount of days off Mac had saved up one would think he could retire.

Actually the person who had once told him that he could go into early retirement on his hoarded vacation days alone was now sitting behind the desk in his office, her long legs crossed over one another on his chair and her long caramel curls framing her face. Subconsciously, Mac smiled and pushed open the glass doorway that separated them.

"You know you aren't a very smart shopper, right Mac?" Stella asked teasingly as he entered the office, his eyes wandering towards the pile of uncompleted forms taking up room on the edge of his desk. He damned them internally and diverted his attention to his partner who sat twirling a long, curly lock of hair around one manicured finger.

"And how is that, Stella?" He humoured her although he absentmindedly gathered the stack of paper off his desk and placed them on the coffee table parallel his couch.

"For a CSI you sure are slow today." Her voice tinkled with humour as she mocked her friend. "I could have very well triangulated your cell and found out where you were buying my gift from."

This caught Mac's attention and with an amused little smirk, Mac stepped towards the chair that his partner was currently occupying.

"Sounds like you're not on you're A game today, Detective." He began, his lips twisted into a silly smirk as he turned the chair around to face him. "You shouldn't still be guessing where I buy your Christmas gifts, that or you are terrible at being observant."

Rolling her beautiful green eyes, Stella laughed shortly for Mac had made a very good point.

"Well played, sir." The Greek detective retorted with a taunting smirk. "But then I am not one to forget and revenge _is_ a dish best served cold."

Mac laughed next and grasped her left hand in his right, tugging her gently from the chair so they could switch positions, him in his desk and her sitting on it next to him.

Stella took her place on the glass desk, close enough to be friendly with Mac but out of the way enough so that he could manage to reach every part of his desk and not be disturbed by her presence. Smiling, she let her eyes wander over her partner's body lazily, from his thinning brown locks of hair to his stellar blue irises. The mere sight of him was enough to have a smile bloom over her face and when he was like, as near to playful behaviour as he had been in days, it made something wonderful occur inside of her, something that she never wanted to let go of. Mac had a way of doing things like that to her.

"So where is it?" Her question seemingly surprising both her and her partner by its abruptness.

"Where's _what_, Stell?" Mac queried evenly, his eyebrow only arching somewhat.

"My gift, of course." She smiled humorously. "I know you bought it today."

Mac sighed, how had he ever fooled himself into believing Stella would give up this line of questioning every Christmas season?

"Purchased, wrapped, and hidden until Christmas Eve. You know how it goes, Stell. No peeking."

With her lips in a pouty fashion, Stella watched her friend work avidly for a few more minutes before pushing up from the desk with a bored kind of expression on her face. It was not as if her friend bored her or that she had anything better to do for that matter or that she was at all bothered by the fact that Mac wouldn't give in and just tell her what he picked out for Christmas but she figured he might want to get _some_ paperwork done before his three days of vacation and she knew how few of those days he actually put to good use.

So, opting not to distract Mac, Stella reminded him that Christmas Eve was indeed only a three short days away and that she would use the nutcracker for a whole new purpose if he was going to bail on their holiday plans. Mac had chuckled at her joking threat that did not sound all that joking and bid her goodbye before focusing his attention back to the task at hand, only letting his eyes look up from the paper quickly to watch her hips sway slightly as she left the room and before she could do her patent Stella move where she turned to face him once more.

They really had been working together for to long.

* * *

**A/N:** Kay, so I'm thinking about ending the chapter here, mostly because I have a dozen ideas and do not yet know how to incorporate them into a next chunk of this chapter :P. So while you kind people review this (because I am every cliché in the book when it comes to wanting reviews) I will be hard at work on the upcoming chapter instead of bothering to do my all important summative assignments that sit beside me, unattended and much too difficult to even think about doing over the holidays :P.


	2. Chapter 2

**My True Love Gave To Me**

**Disclaimer:** Don't you wish I owned the show? Well actually if I were you I'd be wishing for myself, not some other CSI: NY fan who would probably hold the actors captive until they succumbed to their demands. Not that _that_ thought has gone through any of our head's ;).

**Pairing:** Mac/Stella, SMacked.

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Our favourite couple joins in on the festivities this Christmas :D.

**Author's Note:** Ooh, this chapter really did not want to get written, well the part with Montana anyway ;). I hope it does justice to whatever esteems you built this story up to and that I don't disappoint. Should have the next chapter up soon! :D

**PS:** Jessica Angell is alive and well, just as every fan knows deep in their heart xD.

* * *

**Chapter II.**

_Three short days later…_

December 24th had managed to roll around with all of the shebang that the NYPD was used to. There were crimes committed, of course. There were cases to review and work on, as usual. There were officers and officials working through the holidays because everyone knew that the crime didn't take a holiday, in fact it seemed to revel in the fact it that it kept certain people from fully enjoying their much-needed vacation.

Detective Donald Flack Jr. was one of those people.

Unfortunately for the deserving detective his morning consisted of a cut short make out session with his girlfriend, a too short shower, and a mad dash to the NYPD pre-cinct at quarter after eight in the morning. The blue-eyed detective sighed and resigned himself to his desk where he guzzled the remaining few slurps of coffee from his mug, after just getting back from yet another arrest. So much for having a nice, relaxing day with the girlfriend and family. Not to mention that he had abandoned Angell to hang around with his father, mother, brother, and sister. She was probably having a gas looking over his baby pictures and preparing the roast beef his mother was making for dinner. His mouth watered slightly at the thought of his mother's delicious roast with clumps of whipped potatoes drenched in gravy with a side of cheese coated steamed vegetables.

Stupid criminals couldn't cut it out for two days of the year?

"Now I was kind of hoping I wouldn't find you here, Flack. I mean it _is_ Christmas, why aren't you spending it with Jess?" An unidentified female voice interrupted his daydreams, forcing him to look away from the random and empty spot on the pre-cinct wall and instead at the woman who stood before him.

"Morning Stell." He greeted with a smile matching her own. "What are _you_ doing here? No big plans for the holidays this year?"

Her smile seemed to kick up a notch at his question, as if he had reminded her of some fantastic, non-work related plans she had. Flack wanted to scowl but to avoid the nickname of "Scrooge" he held back.

"Actually, Donnie Boy, I do have plans for the holidays, thank you." Stella replied crisply, her smile still evident in her sparkly green eyes. "But a little birdie told me you wound up back at the pre-cinct this morning so I thought I'd bring you your gift now."

Almost instantly Flack lit up like the fourth of July.

Two large Christmas themed gift bags were placed on his desk, one with a cartoon snowman smiling widely in front of a snowy setting and another of a cutesy reindeer with a big red nose. Each bag was overflowing with brightly coloured tissue paper and weighed enough to be considered fairly large gifts. Flack thanked Stella for the gifts—one labelled with his name and another with Angell's—and told her to get lost because there had to be better ways to celebrate Christmas Eve than hang around with him while on call. It had taken very little convincing on Flack's part to get Stella out of the pre-cinct and back to whatever other plans she had that day and a little bit of jealousy niggled at the handsome detective as he kissed his friend's cheek goodbye, only getting a glimpse of her smile and wave as she stepped out into the snowy winter.

Two hours and thirty-two minutes in counting before he could bail and Flack was certain that the long, thin arms of the clock were moving backwards just to taunt him.

* * *

_Twenty seven minutes after that…_

Lindsay Abigail Monroe could not, for the life of her, find one goddamned bag of walnuts in the entire mini-mart. She'd swear but her mother had taught her to be too much of a lady to do that and with her mother in the city and ergo close enough to do some serious nagging Lindsay figured it to be wise to shut her trap and figure out there hell those damn nuts were.

The cart swerved as she made her way down yet another aisle with her eyes scanning each shelf for the one thing she had forgotten to pick up before her parents' visit and before she had begun preparing the stupid salad. She had to bite her tongue to keep the curse word from falling from her lips as her cart collided—albeit just barely—with another cart turning into the aisle that she was attempting to leave.

"Oh gosh, I am so sor—_Stella_?"

Her apology dying on her lips and shock washing over her pretty face, Lindsay quickly double-checked the familiar figure before her very eyes. What were the chances of running it Stella in a mini-mart in a completely different borough from where she lived the day of Christmas Eve?

"Hey Linds, what's the rush?" Stella asked with an amusement in her tone.

With and exaggerated sigh Lindsay opened her mouth and all of the floodgates broke down.

"Well it seems that every single mini-mart in the whole city is out of walnuts. One would _think _that they would keep such a thing in storage or something like that in case such an emergency comes up where someone would _need_ walnuts but _no_, why would anyone _ever_ need them to top a salad with them or munch on them during home videos so that they won't bother _me_ in the kitchen about dinner _every five minutes_?"

Stella was not sure whether she should be afraid or humoured by her friend's rant but all it took was one look at Lindsay's frustrated expression for Stella to know if she wanted to live to celebrate the new year she should play the sympathetic friend.

"So all of this is because you need a bag of walnuts?" She asked timidly, trying desperately to keep her amusement from peeking through her words but was certain she was failing miserably.

"Stell, this is so much more important than _a bag of __walnuts_ as you so eloquently put it." The Montanan CSI gasped, stuck in a purgatory between furious aggravation and utter desperation.

Was Stella really insinuating that she would get so worked up over something that wasn't as important as she was trying to explain? But then how could Stella possibly understand even if Lindsay did her very best to get across the fact that everything had to be perfect for her parents' first visit to New York? How could she ever get Stella to see that every ornament and entrée and present had to be flawless, that everything down to the gift wrap and the gravy and the weather had to seem effortless yet a product of dedication. Now the thing about all of this that Lindsay imagined Stella would find difficult to grasp was that Lindsay was never one to be such a perfectionist in her life, but when it came to hosting and holidays and the two came together Lindsay was a self-proclaimed OCD wreck of anticipation with a side of belligerent behaviour.

"Well, Linds, if you're in a bind you know you always have a friend in me." The Greek woman smiled warmly, offering an olive branch into the younger woman's stressed out aura.

She snorted a little in annoyance but Stella could see the exhaustion and gratefulness all over Lindsay's face, obviously the anxiety of her parents being in New York a draining event. Stella had never known Lindsay to have anything but love and pride to her family and heritage but she also knew that families could be a royal pain in the ass to deal with around the holidays and that even though you love them you're also milliseconds from strangling them too.

Actually Stella couldn't say she knew what that was like, not in the same way Lindsay could.

"I'm sorry about my mood today Stell, I'm just a little freaked out with it being my first Christmas as wife and mother with the addition of my parents being in town. I just want everything to be flawless; I want everyone to remember this Christmas as one of the best ever."

It was understandable for anyone to be so worked up over the holidays and even in preparation for the festivities and what good were you as a friend if you couldn't offer your assistance. Stella smiled as a realization dawned on her and dropped her hand into the red plastic basket in her right hand and withdrew a clear plastic bag with a gold and brown sticker on the front, one long green ribbon tied tightly around the top as to seal the bag shut.

"You know I've got a bag right here." The Greek woman offered, acting nonchalantly, and wasn't even if half bad at it either.

Lindsay nearly pounced all five feet and three inches of being on to her friend, grasping the bag and gawking at it as if it were an illusion she had thought up in a fit of delirium. Stella would have laughed but what little breath wasn't being expelled from her was choking her just enough for it to become painful and cautiously she began to peel herself from the arms of her elated friend.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you Stella!" The dirty blonde squealed in a fashion not dissimilar to that of her young daughter and before they knew it the two women were laughing at the whole hectic situation.

Giggles subsiding, Lindsay placed the nuts into her handheld basket and thanked Stella once more before asking what she was doing at a mini-mart in mid-town anyway. In response to the question Stella peered down in her half full basket at the bag of mini-marshmallows, chocolate chips, Carnation milk, hot chocolate, and individual containers of spices. She had been doing some last minute shopping for ingredients for her five-minute fudge recipe and had managed to pick up a few other things as she passed them on the shelves in the store.

It was certainly no secret how Stella spent her Christmas holiday and contrary to popular belief it was not by her lonesome, sobbing over the depressing Christmas specials that reminded her of her absent childhood. Actually Stella really enjoyed the Christmas season and went out of her way to put St. Basil's behind her, despite the fact that her past Christmases in the orphanage as well as many of her foster homes, brought up fond memories for the CSI. So when time came for the big day Stella made a habit of either fleeing the state to enjoy a vacation to another state or even another country for a week or opted to stay in New York with one of—if not her closest—friends.

This friend being named Mac Taylor, of course.

Not that Stella would admit that her big plans for today were to decorate the Christmas tree she and her partner had picked out, bake Christmas fudge while singing along to carols on the radio, and then to curl up on the couch for a rousing marathon of _Home Alone_ and war movies that she had not yet come to adore but had a new found admiration for. And although this seemed like a perfectly wonderful way to spend the holiday Stella also knew that it would be best to keep her lips zipped because any admission of her and Mac's traditions would only warrant relentless teasing and pathetic (not to mention botched) attempts of getting the two together. You didn't get to become a first grade detective for being oblivious to these truths and even though Stella was not at all ashamed of what she and Mac had together she simply did not want it tampered with by people under the misguided notion that they could ever be anything other than best friends.

* * *

_One hour and twelve minutes anon…_

Mac was just about done wrapping the final cord of twinkling Christmas lights around the evergreen tree when he heard an all too familiar knock on the door. Smiling, he twined the cable around the top few branches with ease and went to greet who he was sure was standing on the other side.

"Why do you insist on knocking when you know the door is open and that I am expecting you?" He questioned as he held the door open for his partner, watching as she sashayed away from in and into his living room, toting a reusable black canvass bag in one hand and her purse in another. She had thanked him as she stepped through the threshold and called over her shoulder as she crossed through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Because I know you'll still answer _and_ hold the door open."

A smile threatened to spread to wide across his face and so Mac distracted himself with the mess of boxes arranged through out his apartment, each full with a different kind of Christmas decoration that either he or Stella already owned or that she had accumulated over the past few weeks.

Coat, gloves, scarf, and hat shed from her body Stella reappeared in the living room with her outside clothes hanging on one arm while her free hand brushed stubborn snowflakes from her hair. Her eyes wandered over to the tree that was set up, now embraced by long wires of pretty white lights, still looking naked without all the spheres and icicles and snowflakes dangling from the its wide branches but it is full of such potential that Stella doesn't need to warm up from the cold outdoors for her own euphoric attitude.

"You realize that I only do that because I know you know that?" The blue-eyed man asked as he accepted a box marked in bold black letters _garland_ from the woman with cheeks that were still blushing from the chill that swept through the city. Their fingers brushed as the box passed between them and they flushed only just around the necks, thankful to know one another well enough to call the other out for their physical reaction, that and the frosty weather that could attribute to such a response.

Teeth showing in her smirk, Stella nodded shortly and skirted around the man with a simple, two word reply: "I know."

Swallowing his laughter feels like capturing lightning and once the sensation rushes through Mac's entire body he feels the tingles run down his spine, escaping through his toes and into the carpet, causing a form of friction that flees through his fingertips as he caresses the shoulder of his partner, as intimate a touch as he will allow himself.

"So where do we begin?" The Greek goddess in the back of his living room asks, already placed in front of the tree and Mac cannot help but wonder when she had left his presence and how it went undetected. Had he been so distracted by the scent of winter enclosed around her and the blush of her cheeks and the nip of pink on her nose that he had been left dumb in her wake?

Stella waved him over and finally his legs registered that he needed to move, the answer to that question obviously being _yes_.

"Lights, garland, plastic, candy canes, glass, snow flakes, and icicles." Mac recited, placing each box in the order that he had just prattled off. They had probably chosen the largest tree in the lot and had enough ornaments to decorate two.

"Well then, lets get cracking!" Stella clapped her hands together in such a Stella-esque fashion that Mac couldn't help but smirk as he tore open the duct taped box to reveal a mass of plastic spheres in every colour imaginable and they got to work.

Each ornament Mac took out from its box he would hold up to Stella and ask where she had found it or why on Earth she had purchased, this of course defined by how odd it had looked at first glance. Of course the handsome yet very slow detective had only received on retort from the woman each time, her adamant response being that it was "charming" and had "character". Mac had out-right laughed at first but after seeing the tenacity in his friend's jade eyes he had apologized and placed each one with care on the tree, not forgetting to compliment her excellent taste once they had finished fitting each snowflake and icicle on every free inch of the evergreen.

It was only a little after two o'clock in the afternoon and the pair already knew it would be one _long _day.

* * *

**A/N:** Woot! Chapter two has been completed!! Certainly doesn't _sound_ like any kind of accomplishment but trust me I was struggling with that Lindsay/Stella scene for a while, you'll all just have to tell me what you think about then, won't ya? Well there you go my lovely and devoted readers, I hoped you are as excited as me for the next instalment :D.


	3. Chapter 3

**My True Love Gave To Me**

**Disclaimer:** Wouldn't it be such a merry little Christmas if I owned CSI: NY? No? Whaddya mean "_no_"? I'd make a great world leader…I mean executive producer of CSI: NY ;).

**Pairing:** Mac/Stella, SMacked.

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Our favourite couple joins in on the festivities this Christmas :D.

**Author's Note:** Just a few things to get through before you may continue on to the chapter…

**1.** I have wretched grammar skills, like amazingly awful (comma abuse!) so I apologize now because I have forgotten to give you all fair warning two chapters back xD.

**2. **I know where I am going with this story so don't y'all worry yer pretty lil' heads. Gosh, I feel like I'm typing dialogue for Danny, or at least how I type his accent :P.

**3. **I am touched by all of the lovely reviews that have been made so far, thank you for your kindness and for the fact that you read my story (evidence!) so I really hope you love this next chapter as much as the previous two :D.

* * *

**Chapter III.**

_Four hours forty-eight minutes subsequent…_

Mac had allowed Stella free rein of the kitchen the previous Christmas and had ended up with a dozen different baked goods and not a single thing to eat for dinner besides a dish of salad and pasta so for this year Mac had been tempted to handcuff his partner to the couch and leave her there until after dinner had been made and served. Thankfully, not to mention shockingly, Stella had obeyed Mac instantly and plopped herself down on the couch with her heels kicked up and turned on the tube to some cliché Christmas special she seemed to be enjoying very much.

"So what's cookin' Mac?" Stella questioned, making room next to her on the couch once she had heard her partner shuffle from the kitchen to the living room, no doubt with trays of food in hand.

"Just something that I hope won't give us food poisoning." He replied, half jokingly, although he decided it would be best not to vocalize that concern.

"Trust me, nothing that smells _this _good could possibly be _that _bad." The Greek woman retorted, stabbing a fork into the delicious looking piece of bird sitting on her plate. How one could ever commit to vegetarianism after getting a whiff of this chicken was beyond Stella's thought process.

Confidence in his cooking abilities now boosted, Mac cut a healthy sized piece of his chicken as well and fed it to himself, assessing it's flavour on his tongue and it didn't even taste that bad.

Some small talk occurred through out their meal although they both seemed too distracted with their food and the decorations and the over-whelming feeling of the season to articulate their words. They had prayed after they had tested out their dinners, a comfortable silence settling around them as they offered things to be grateful for and things that they hoped for. The wine went quickly as did the roasted potatoes as well as the raw vegetables that spilled across their plates. Television long forgotten and the sounds of jazzy Christmas tunes made the moment and room blessedly cosy and warm, so much so that neither Stella nor Mac complained or even mentioned as they adjusted themselves into half sitting and half lying down positions and shared off one another's plates, smiles gracing their faces as they chatted on and off until they were both satisfied with the food and company.

"I must compliment you on the amazing dinner Mac, everything was absolutely scrumptious." Stella broke the silence with her beautiful voice, a voice that drove Mac from his pleasant oblivion into an even more enjoyable reality.

"I'm sure the company helped." Mac replied as he picked himself up from the couch and took his partner's now cleared plate with a smile reserved only for the woman slumping against his couch with a full stomach and a contented smile plastered across her face.

"Fishing for compliments, are we?" His friend teased, her hands gripping the armrest of the couch so she could hoist herself up, as if she had gained half her body mass from the single meal.

Something twinkled in Mac's eyes but Stella had missed it for he was already half way to the kitchen, although it did give the lady detective a prime opportunity to check out her friend from a seldom seen angle; his ass moving in those black slacks. For the briefest of moments Stella took pleasure in fantasizing her rather attractive partner in a pair of simple blue jeans, something that made her prickle all over.

"You've got Goosebumps." Mac stated as he re-entered the room without a peep.

"_Wah?!_" Stella yelped in surprise and instinctively leaped backwards, away from the sudden sound that was Mac's otherwise recognizable voice.

"Whoa! You okay Stella?" A worried tone traced in his voice, it was that same worried tone that always brought Stella back to reality, if only so she could save Mac from his over zealous protectiveness, he was such a man like that.

The words came afterwards, after the pause that felt like ages when it was happening but vanished in a snap and Stella was refusing to admit what had suspended the reality around her. It had been his face, if she ever were to tell, not that she would and she'd be the first to tell you _that_. The clean shave, his permanent thin-lipped expression, and then his sharp eyebrows that always seemed to be questioning and observing or maybe it was the determined look in his cobalt irises? It immobilized her, as if it was only in this moment that Stella had ever really taken in the set of his jaw or the softness of his cheeks in contrast to his harsh brow.

Paralysed, the dirty blonde CSI did her best not to gape at curve of the shell of his ear or the quiver of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, and for good reason too. It was not a traditionally handsome face, well it was but it wasn't supermodel attractive and it was totally familiar, she had seen it almost every day for the past almost ten years yet here she was, just barely standing in his living room and inspecting the finest curvatures of his face and all she wanted to do was run her thumbs across them to see if he felt as dream like as he looked.

What at first felt like hour being dragged into hour turned out to be translated into the length of a single hiccup and it took every fibre in Stella's being not blush under the intense scrutiny of those same cobalt eyes.

"You startled me Mac." She accused him because it was so much easier than admitting that she had been so absorbed in the majesty that was her best friend.

His hands were at first on her forearms that were covered by the tight green knit sweater with the plunging white neckline and then they were sliding past her wrists and to her palms, grasping them delicately, as if he understood that she was too fragile to be played with right this moment.

"You cold?" Mac, ever the gentleman, asked and all Stella could do in response was nod.

* * *

_One hour successive…_

The fudge had turned out splendidly and in turn all over their faces. Each year Stella took great pleasure in braving his kitchen and whipping up something delectable and full of chocolate and each year Mac sat back and played guinea pig, enjoying the way Stella buzzed around the kitchen with a spoon in one hand and a dish in the other. She claimed to never want any to eat for herself but in the end, just as the tradition predicted, she'd end up on the couch clutching her stomach while complaining about getting fat and being sick the next morning which never actually happened. Thank God.

"I swear Stell, dessert was amazing—as always—but I'm starting to think the secret ingredient isn't mint but something you lifted from evidence." Mac informed his friend who was currently flipping channels on the television, her glass of wine half empty and legs naked of any shoes and socks and resting lazily on his coffee table.

It was now a little after seven o'clock in the evening and both were now lounging around in his living room with a mountain of pillows and blankets around and between them. Stella, who seemed too contented in her spot to move, lolled her head to the side and gave Mac a look that told him he best know what she was thinking coz' she wasn't going to tell him. He reached forward and waved the DVD case in the direction of his guest, shrouding his proud smile with a simple smirk and took the four steps towards the DVD player and popped the disk in with an expert ease. The warnings about piracy appeared and disappeared and the previews were skipped through and seconds later they were settled on the couch, only the thick wool of the blankets separating them, with their eyes fixed on the screen anticipating the plot of _Home Alone 2: Lost in New York_ to unfold before their very eyes.

Few words were spoken through out the duration of the film but that hardly mattered, they were used to the silence but why they were used to it was because it was a comforting silence, a non-awkward, non-confrontational, non-angsty silence that brought on a sense of fluency, calmness, and something else. They were on certain terms, friendship that was so much more than pals getting together over coffee and gossiping together at work.

It was the kind of friendship where one could tell the other they honestly didn't look good in those pants and that their current love interest was a bitch of the first order, the kind of bond that was built on devotion and trust and chemistry. Something that so many people had but didn't understand until their first brush with that all too terrifying truth that they could be taken away any day, that they could walk out of your life as easily as they had sidled into it, that one day they were one person and the next they were someone else completely.

Not that that was always a bad thing. No, not at all, for people could change or develop or simply blossom in new ways everyday and could become better people because of it. The scary part about it all was the way that you were usually too blinded by the present to be looking far enough in the future to see what's coming up and that future is the morning you wake up and see the other person in a completely new life or realize that your view of them will never become better than it is in that very moment.

It is the second you inhale and smell them in the breeze, when you close your eyes and they filter through, when you smile inadvertently at a present situation. And these moments, these raw and beautiful and overwhelming moments, can either be the result of a long lived and fruitful friendship or a chemical imbalance that makes you think that you can connect on every level except physically because in all the years you've known that woman you've never been able to comb a hand through her dark locks and kiss her until you both give up breathing.

Not that the dream of Stella succumbing to his kiss was something Mac _ever _fantasized about.

* * *

_Four hours and seventeen minutes following…_

She took up most of the couch with her long and slender frame, her hair haloed around the throw pillow on one end of the couch while her ankles and bare feet rested over Mac's lap. Her mouth was ajar and a small animalistic sound was escaping it, her spine shivered from the cold, her leg trembled slightly, and the blanket slipped off her shoulders and crunched up around her hips. Mac turned off the DVD player and turned the channel to something playing some trashy romantic comedy about the Christmas season, he smirked a little as Stella curled her toes and subconsciously rolled from her right side to her left so that she was now facing the television set.

The digital clock on the DVD player read that it was approximately quarter after eleven in the evening and that for most normal people on Christmas Eve—well for those who celebrated anyway—that he should be sound asleep in bed by now but alas he couldn't seem to pull himself from his current situation. They had just wrapped up _Forrest Gump_, well Mac had, and their was now a mess of plates and utensils and beverages covering the table, an ocean of blankets overflowing the couch, and a beacon of light spilling in from behind him as the tree lit up the entire apartment. However none of this seemed to bother Stella since she had managed to slip into a coma like sleep about forty-five minutes before the movie had ended and Mac had not at all been surprised, although he _would _have been surprised to find out that Stella had actually made it through the whole film at least once before.

Chuckling to himself quietly, Mac carefully lifted Stella's toned legs from atop him and laid them back down on the now vacant spot on the furniture. He smiled at the image before him and could not resist the urge to revel in it for what may be considered a moment too long. Long dark curls shone beautifully in the sparkling Christmas lights and her olive skin tone looked absolutely palatable in Mac's haze of sleepiness. She shifted in her sleep and the blankets, as well as many curls, swooped down over her shoulder and the simple action bringing Mac to his knees next to his slumbering partner.

"Mac?" A sleepy voice murmured, calm and angelic, freezing Mac on spot.

"Hey Stell." He whispered, his fingers absentmindedly tucking away some vagrant curls of her hair. "How are you sleeping?"

There was a pause and a flutter of eyelids and suddenly Mac realized this meant she was waking. The impulse to keep Stella sleeping easily, relaxed, and pleased rushed through Mac, knocking him down a peg. He ran a thumb down her cheek and marvelled at the smoothness.

"I'm kay," came her muffled reply. "What's the matter?"

Even half-asleep Stella was still naturally protective and concerned.

"Nothing hon—" Mac bit his tongue and rolled it around the insides of his cheeks for good measure. "Nothing Stella, I just thought you might like to go to bed, you're going to get a kink from this couch."

She grumbled something incoherent _and_ Greek and hefted herself into a half-sitting position, her eyes tired and throat no doubt sore from hanging half open in her sleep, her clothes were wrinkled too. Mac's hand twitched at his side uselessly, he wanted to smooth the creases from the clothes and her hair and her exhausted expression.

"I don' wanna move." The woman whined and Mac wanted to laugh at his friend's response.

"Come on, Stell, I'll carry you if I have to coz' I know you'll be complaining about neck and back pains all tomorrow if I don't get you off this couch." The ex-marine informed and watched with some surprise as she actually obeyed him and scooted closer to him and offered her hand, one he accepted without hesitation.

Gently lifting his friend from the piece of furniture designed definitely not for sleeping, Mac led a very graceful Stella through the living room and past the fully lit tree. She paused and slipped her hand in his, their fingers entwining.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She breathed as she took in the vision of the Christmas tree and the quiet city in the background. It was never quiet in New York. Mac had nodded in agreement for it was beautiful.

"I know." Mac replied and squeezed her hand. "But now you should be going back to sleep."

Stella turned to him and blinked, looking at him with that strange expression from earlier in the evening. The moonlight bled into the apartment and drenched her partner is a yellow hue of light, Stella held her breath and tried to find stars in his eyes, certainly out of her right mind with tiredness…and yet he looked gorgeous.

"Thank you." The words coming out much softer and loving than intended but not at all unwelcome or regretted.

He didn't know what to say in response since she hadn't given any good reason to be grateful but he knew if he just stood around uselessly Stella would not be satisfied so caressing her knuckles with his thumb, Mac leaned forward and kissed Stella on the cheek and instantly flooded with amazing warmth. Was this what it was like for Stella every time she touched, hugged, and kissed him? If so he'd let her do it more often.

They broke apart and smiled tenderly at one another. He led them to the guest bedroom and kissed her goodnight on the forehead and smiled when she kissed the corner of his lips. She went to sleep sleepier then before hand and he went to bed with his lips quirked in amusement. Mac believed in Christmas miracles ever since he was young enough to see them happening everywhere in life and now he had even more supporting evidence. Touching the inch of flesh that previously had made contact with Stella Bonasera's lips, Mac smiled and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Later on the update today but cut me some slack it is like 1:25am here and Christmas morning technically xD. So I hope you enjoyed the super cute (I thought!) Smacked scenes in this chapter and the fact that I posted it on time! Next chapter will most likely be the last (so brace yourselves!) and once again comment, critique, and compliment ;).

**PS: **Merry Christmas or whatever you do or don't celebrate! Love Aly :D.


	4. Chapter 4

**My True Love Gave To Me**

**Disclaimer:** I unwrapped all the gifts under the tree this morning but sadly there was no CSI: NY, not even a box set :'( but not to worry, I thought I saw Mac and Stella under the mistletoe? xD

**Pairing:** Mac/Stella, SMacked.

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** Our favourite couple joins in on the festivities this Christmas :D.

**Author's Note:** Wow, six whole hours of sleep followed by unwrapping gifts and eating leftovers for breakfast, that is what the miracle of the season is all about am I right or what? Gosh I love this time of year, I got the 2010 House MD calendar _and _both of the Glee soundtracks :D. Send a review about the chapter _and_ you get a bonus cookie for stating a favourite gift or custom you use during the season and if you don't celebrate I'm not offending yer beliefs! Political correctness is a bitch, this is why I have such a blast at Catholic school ;).

* * *

**Chapter IV.**

_Seven hours afterwards..._

There was a dip in the bed and suddenly Mac was falling.

He had been walking on air it seemed, one minute immersed by the colours and innocence his subconscious mind only to be forced to topple back into reality a moment later. His brain had registered the apparent fall before his body could react which was why, when his limbs decided to shake the sleep off of them and his eyelids unpeeled, Mac was greeted with the vision of an exhilarated smile and wild brown curls.

It was better than the dream.

"It's Christmas morning," she stated in a most hushed tone as if he weren't already wide-awake.

"And that means we should wake up at quarter after eight on a Saturday morning?" Mac countered, his voice so full with tiredness that it came out more ruffled and perhaps deeper than he had intended. He wished to amend his rough response but his partner's excitement for the holiday seemed to tune everything out for her and before he knew it she had his hand in hers and was tugging him from the warmth and comfort of his bed with a the mentality akin to that of a young child expecting a pony, new toy, bicycle or any other childhood Christmas cliché.

"I'm gonna finish making breakfast and you can take a shower, get all cleaned up before we unwrap gifts." Stella dictated before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and directing him towards the general vicinity of the bathroom, Mac's partner practically bubbling over in childlike joy at the prospect of breakfast and gifts and their annual game of _Scrabble_. It was just as well though, Mac knew better than most that one never screwed around with Stella's traditions or her organization, especially when she'd be cooking for dinner and was stressed out enough as it is.

Hell hath no fury like Stella Bonasera come Christmas Day.

He watched as she headed back into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind her, and sighed as he went to gather his bathrobe and a towel for his shower figuring that by the time he was done getting cleaned up breakfast would be ready and they could eat, clean up the dishes, and then finally tear into the gifts. Recalling that they only had so much time before they had to be at Sid's house that afternoon for their Secret Santa and Christmas dinner, he was bringing the beer and Stella was contributing some kind of potato dish.

Something clattered to the floor on the other side of his apartment and a string of swears in an unfamiliar tongue trailed behind in response. Mac rolled his eyes, smirking as he swept the shower curtain closed.

* * *

_Twenty minutes consequently..._

The chocolate chips in the pancakes had melted perfectly, not too solid but not complete liquid either. Stella smiled proudly and pressed the spatula into the top of the of the delicious looking, golden brown pancakes simply out of superstition before piling them on to a large plate to her left. In Mac's kitchen there was medium sized table that would easily seat four occupants, Stella made up two places, parallel one another, and placed the plate down in the space that separated them. Next she poured two glasses of orange juice because the coffee beans were not quite finished grinding and laid out the silverware.

Everything was perfect and yet Stella still had the weight of uneasiness on her mind. What was missing?

"Wow." A voice interrupts her mental investigation. "Delicious."

Stella turned towards the source of interruption and once she caught a glimpse of what—or rather who—had cut her train of thought short she tried not to look too appalled. Deduced from the interloper's expression she was not doing a very good job at it.

"What's the matter Stell?" Mac, now fresh from a shower with only his hair still damp, asked her.

She sputtered momentarily but unsure as to why. There were few good reasons for Stella to have a lapse of thought but she was not sure which one Mac would think of, although in her line of work she had been taught not assume anything, least of all Detective Mac Taylor.

"So is all of this for us?" He offered a titbit of conversation, yet another one lost on the curly haired detective that could not seem to readjust her jaw back into place.

Reason one: His sudden voice and presence had surprised her.

Reason two: Soap and shampoo and shaving cream saturated the air in the enclosed kitchen. At least for Stella it did.

Reason three: The only thing in the whole kitchen Mac had even touched was the goddamned orange juice.

Not wanting to sound completely cliché—although Stella figured she could let it slide this _one_ time—the Greek woman had slaved over a hot stove, venting her frustrations with cooking by whipping the batter around in the bowl and drowning each individual chocolate chip before making the most perfect circular shaped pancakes. Then there was the fact that Stella hated cleaning dishes after the actual event of cooking and eating took place for she usually found herself to full and lazy to do so, it was this logic that persuaded Stella to clean dishes while consecutively making whatever she was cooking at the time. It could be a hassle but time and time again she had never been disappointed by the fact that she didn't have to do dishes afterwards.

She, for some strange reason, associated the concept with sex in the shower. Logically the CSI could see the connection but that did not stop her from thinking that it was nonetheless weird. Many people took showers after sex; the desire to feel clean after spending all that time feeling oh so dirty despite it feeling so very good was a popular reaction. However if one were to shower whilst giving into temptation they cut out the middleman; the battle against the urge to stay beneath the bed sheets for one more round, the embarrassment of not being able to walk straight after having their legs paralyzed from too intense love making, the unexpected shift from fingertips to bathwater caressing skin. The funny thing was that in all her many years—too many in the thirty-something's opinion—of life Stella had never indulged in shower sex.

Over the past years Stella had been pretty modest as to where and when she had sex with only few and frenzied incidents in between, a couple close calls that she would actually rather forget. It had always been a fantasy of hers but no matter what relationship she had been in when the thought flitted across her devious mind she couldn't seem to muster up the chemistry and confidence to not only get bare naked but under water where the need to breathe would probably feel even less accessible under the pressure of rainwater and slippery surfaces. But now, as she dwells on it briefly, Stella wonders if it was so much a matter of chemistry and confidence but instead an issue of connection and trust, if that made any sense at all, something Stella doubted.

That made the problem so easy to resolve.

All she had have to answer was: Who did she like? Who did she trust? And if lucky enough to find him, whom did she _want_ to shower with?

"C'mon Stell, the food is going to be cold if you keep standing there."

"Sure Mac."

_Mac?!_

Who had she just answered; her subconscious or her partner? Oh God, she shouldn't be allowed to analyse this early in the morning.

They sat in an unrequited comfortable silence, one of which Mac obviously held the upper hand to since he had the good fortune to consume his meal and coffee without heat creeping up his collar and dazed desire keeping him from devouring his breakfast. She swore. Damn Mac, some people got all the luck.

"Not hungry?" Mac, who had managed his way through two pancakes and was now cutting into a third, questioned his unresponsive partner.

"Huh?" Stella, as always, replied smartly. Oh as if you could have done any better on such short notice.

This intelligent response seemed to elicit an expression of true concern on the man's face, one that instantly made Stella wish she had not been so apparent with her daydreaming. That and being able to read Mac like a book because sometimes that blessing revealed itself as a curse, it tended to do so once she realized he was going to do something opposite of what she wanted. She sighed and cut him to the chase.

"I'm sorry Mac, I guess I just didn't sleep well, excited for Christmas and all."

It was a lame excuse but it was one, which meant that she wasn't too far-gone to forget how to not raise too much suspicion from the other CSI.

Mac smiled, chuckled even, and immediately Stella's heart came to a steady rhythm in her chest.

"Seems so, how long were you awake before you decided to drag me out here?"

Stella scoffed, feeling more conscious of herself and her friend than she had all morning. "I would hardly consider telling you to take a shower and than feeding you "_dragging _you", as you so eloquently put it. Besides, the average person spends one third of their life dreaming, think of all that you're missing out on."

A pause the length of eyelashes batting passed before Stella continued. "Actually feel free to disregard that last comment, you _need _that average one third of sleep."

"Hmm, maybe you should have asked for that for Christmas?" Mac teased back, forking a piece of chocolate chip pancake into his mouth as he spoke.

"For you to sleep better?" The question was repeated although unnecessarily. "Not a bad idea, you'd be less grumpy that way." She pretended to ponder and then winked rather playfully once her retort left her lips, her lips curling into a smile that poked dimples into her cheeks.

Gulping down some orange juice, Mac, ever the professional, swiped the back of his palm against his lip and barely concealed a burp.

Stella smiled, it was nice to see him behave like a human for once and not the authority or Godsend she usually saw him as.

"Me...grumpy? Seriously, Stell?" He asked with that Mac expression that Danny hated so much. The patented Mac Taylor expression of intrigue and humour one that Stella could spot like a Tiffany's box; from the moon, from a dream, from a moment like this. She shook her head and her romanticized thoughts fell around her.

"Trust me Mac, the lab techs are under the misguided notion that you're the Department's worst nightmare masquerading as an upright Catholic first grade detective."

For a moment Mac was quiet and Stella was curious as to why he had paused and what he was going to respond with.

"Then they'd be correct."

Well that was unexpected.

"Okay, I may be able to read you like a comic book but you're going to have to clear that one up for me Mac."

"Ask Gerrard or Sinclair, I'll haunt them as long as my job is still to protect and serve." He replied after finishing the last of both his juice and coffee.

Eyebrow quirked, Stella cut a healthy piece of pancake and fed it to herself while pretending to consider what her friend had said and her opinion of it. She swallowed and continued.

"And if--somehow--they manage to get your badge for good?"

"You'd do it for me."

A seldom seen shit-eating smile spread across Mac's face, one that made Stella smirk amusedly.

"You over estimate my investment in your well being." The half Italian, half Greek retorted. Her voice was light-hearted and smirk teasing.

"No I don't," Mac told her shortly but not arrogantly. "I just don't appreciate it enough."

For a moment Stella could not find words, they melted away the moment his hand captured hers, cradling it lightly enough for her to question whether or not he was even touching it. Her gaze dropped and her pulse picked up. No doubt about it, Mac most definitely was. The kitchen dissolved around her, the sunlight leaking through the curtains morphed into moonlight, and suddenly she was back to last night, or rather very early this morning. His same thumb ran across her same knuckles in that same gesture of gentleness and synchronization rooted in friendship. She kept her eyes focused forward, her breath held--unintentionally no less--and counted.

_One Mississippi steamboat..._

_Two Mississippi steamboats...._

_Three Mississippi steamboats..._

_Four Mississippi steamboats..._

* * *

_Two hours and fifty-six minutes ensuing..._

Chelsea Hammerback enjoyed being on break from University, she enjoyed it because it meant that she had wrapped up exams and would be able to introduce the friends she had met and made at school to the friends that had headed off to another school, and in turn meet the friends her friends had made. Then of course there was seeing her father, mother, and sister again. Oh! And Christmas, Chelsea was very grateful to be home for that.

"Chels why is there a half completed gingerbread house on the dinner table? You said you'd help me decorate it!" A voice, female and familiar and currently a notch below hysterical, called for the young woman from two rooms away. Chelsea rolled her eyes and readjusted the crooked v-cut of the shirt she had received the previous evening from the same woman who was currently losing her mind over an edible, decorative house.

"I'm coming Mom! But I swear if I get anything on this new outfit someone is going to have Hell to pay."

"Language!" The elder woman reprimanded, still two rooms away.

"Mother!" The younger woman replied, now fixing her hair in the lobby mirror.

"_Children!_" A third voice entered, retorting to both women and it was only slightly amused.

Not bothering to turn around, Chelsea spoke to her father through the reflection on the glass. "Dad will you please ask someone else to help Mom with the gingerbread house, I hate decorating the stupid thing, it takes way too long and makes too big a mess for it to be gone in a half an hour."

Sidney Hammerback took in the appearance of his daughter, of her stick-straight brown hair and her gray blue eyes, followed by her tummy that she claimed was entirely fat and her rounded hips. Her sweater was a deep red colour and he could not ignore--no matter how hard he tried--how the material clutched to her breasts. She wore an almost knee length black skirt that was dry clean only and long black stockings to match it. He wondered, as he watched her reapplying a coat of mascara to her already inch and a half long eyelashes, when she had grown up so fast and where he was when it had taken place because there was no way that this twenty something year old was the same toddler he had picked up on his shoulders and skidded through the house with, nor was she the prepubescent girl who had squealed with delight when he taught her how to ski, nor was she the high school graduate who had wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek, and promised she'd always be his little girl. The stupid thing about parenting, Sid had learned, was that one day you had to give up or at least bring it down a notch as they slowly began their transgression into adulthood so they might follow the same path.

Not that his Chelsea was ever going to be a mother, no matter how much his wife planned for it. In the coroner's mind she still like boy bands and ice-cream floats because the least he had to worry about grandchildren the better.

"Sorry Chels, but your mother needs extra hands around the house. You know how she gets around this time of year."

He replied, trying desperately to get the image of his daughter maturing faster than he liked out of his head. How many more Christmases was he going to get of her screeching in joy as she tore open gifts? How many times would be able to walk into the kitchen and she her covered in flour and icing? How many years before she had her own house and her own Christmas traditions and her own daughter writing letters to Santa Claus? If he believed in the folklore of the jolly man who lived in the North Pole maybe he would wrote his own letter, entailing the wish that his little girl remain that way.

_"Chelsea Anna Hammerback get your butt in this kitchen right this instant!"_

And maybe for his wife to not have to stress out too much during the holidays.

The father and daughter shared a look that lasted as a long as blink of the eye and then Chelsea disappeared to the kitchen leaving her father to question if that been irony.

* * *

**A/N: **Damn, I'm horrible, eh? I don't update for like a week and then I expect you all to review, oh well ;). So since I'm not a mind reader I'm figure y'all oughta get typing up those reviews demanding that I continue this on to my totally unplanned fifth chapter :O. Yup, you read that right. I wanted to wrap it all up in chapter four but it seems that I've found myself unable to move on from this and with too many ideas running through my brain to know what to do with. Also apparently I've got a busy day tomorrow or rather _today_ since it is quickly approaching 1am here. Sweet dreams from Canada :D.

Love Aly. xoxo


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